Your shoulder explodes in pain, and the blade that had been in your hand drops to the ground, discarded. "Logan!" you hear Mike shout, but you're already crumpling to the ground, hands fumbling with your shoulder. Blood is seeping between your fingers, spilling through your hands and soaking your sleeves and shirt.

"Shit," you force out, slumping to the ground as scouts crowd around you. "Shit, shit-"

"Logan," Sasha says, voice filled with horror, "I'm so sorry-"

"Bandages," Mike says immediately, snapping into action. Through the haze of your vision, you see him point to one of the scouts. "You, get the kit. Now."

You squeeze your eyes shut, then reopen. This can't be happening.

There's a stampede of scouts rushing to the shooter; you don't hear any more shots fired, so hopefully that means everyone else is alright. "Everyone okay?" you manage, craning your neck to look around.